ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

Much to Iris' dismay, there was no guidebook for rewinding time.

Though, to her credit, she did try looking up information online, she didn't get too far on her quest to figure out what exactly was happening to her and why it felt so wrong.

Most of the explanations she found were hypothetical, referring to fantasy and science fiction works of, well, fiction, provided to and from writers, and those genres had never been her strong suit (she thought she ought to give it a go, now that some of their plots apparently were no longer outside the realm of possibility). There were hypothetical questions, about how it would be possible (but never acknowledging a universe where that would be a reality) or about what one would do if they could control time, but, as far as Iris could see, she was the only person on the planet to have to deal with the actual consequences of such a thing having happened to her.

More exactly, she had made it happen—how and why, she wasn't certain, but it had happened. Silly, little Iris Fox had rewound time simply because she hadn't wanted to look like a fool during a work meeting because she hadn't bothered to get her presentation notes.

There wasn't much she knew about it, and she doubted she'd make much progress while stuck at home, but the information had to be somewhere. Knowledge was built, so it didn't come out of nowhere, but no one ever prepared you for the moment when you'd have to be the one compiling that information, and it was made even worse when one remembered there was no actual evidence to back it up. It was far too much responsibility for one single person to hold.

The little Iris knew, though, always went back to the butterfly effect and the dangers of messing around with historical events. People always wanted to go back in time and prevent certain bad people from being born, which felt right in a way, but they often failed to consider the implications of it; just because a single thing hadn't happened, history would still be changed. It could be better, but it could also be far worse, and Iris wasn't willing to gamble.

Hadn't she ruined things enough as is? Ruining her own life and future had been terrible enough; surely she couldn't risk damning the entirety of mankind simply because she was a terrible employee.

Those weren't the right thoughts to have while pacing around the freezing aisles of a grocery store.

The temperature had dropped considerably in the span of one day and, although the sun was still shining outside, Emelle Bay was still a coastal town, and it was still Oregon, so the weather wasn't to be trusted, especially during the early days of spring. As Iris' teeth chattered in the frozen food aisle and she tugged at her coat's collar to conserve some body warmth, she attempted to find some meaning in the chaos her life had turned into.

The whiplash from comparing two options of vegetarian lasagna while considering the intricacies of rewinding time wasn't lost on her. It felt as though she was two different people condensed into a mess of one and the most complicated parts were spilling and ripping out through the stitches. She'd been barely holding herself together as is, and time traveling powers had only made everything so much more complicated—unnecessarily so.

Iris knew she shouldn't be messing with unbending laws and the stability of the universe—butterfly effect, chaos theory, the multiverse, and all those complicated concepts she simply could not comprehend—yet there was a part of her that couldn't help but be deadly curious about it all.

How had it started? What had triggered it? How could she control it, if at all? What would trigger it in the future? Would she have a choice on whether she could go back or stay in the present time? What about traveling forward into the unknown future? Had she done it before without realizing it? How far could she travel back in time without ruining her future and everyone else's?

How far would she need to go if she wanted to fix the one thing she'd been so convinced she couldn't? How far would she need to go if she wanted to fulfill the wish lingering in her head, the one that made her heart keep beating, the reason she'd moved back to Emelle Bay?

If she had those powers, there had to be a reason why, and there had to be a purpose. She could do good with them, and, if there was an infinitesimally small chance she could use them to save Lyra, then—

Iris shook her head, stuffing back one of the lasagnas into the freezer and slamming the door closed.

"Stop it," she scolded herself, startling a kind-looking grandmother standing nearby.

In New York, that would be the least of her concerns, with everyone being so self-absorbed and rushing to get their own stuff done and out of the way to care about what other people were doing, but Emelle Bay was not New York. People in Emelle Bay knew who she was, what she looked like, about her and Lyra, and they knew why she'd come back. Allowing the rumor mill to continue spinning would be diabolical, not to mention mortifying; she didn't want to know what people would say if they caught her speaking to herself or worse—if they were to ever find out she could rewind time.

Not that anyone would believe her. She couldn't believe herself just yet, and there was no justification to give people another thing to fuel the "Iris Fox is losing her marbles" narrative.

Even if saving Lyra would be possible, Iris didn't know how she'd even get there to begin with. There were far too many questions that remained unanswered, and she couldn't be naive enough to believe she'd be able to wing it, figure it out as she went. There was too much at stake, too many blind spots standing in her path; she couldn't even figure out exactly how to trigger her powers on demand, let alone use them with a specific goal in mind.

What if she remained stuck in the past forever? What if all her efforts ended up being in vain and she would've traveled back in time, screwed up everyone's lives, and Lyra would still keep slipping out of her fingers?

Iris swallowed back the lump in her throat along with a handful of stubborn tears that had threatened to burst out of her eye sockets. There was something extra humiliating about crying in the middle of a grocery store, especially one set in your hometown, and it had proven to be quite a humbling experience.

Crying in front of her coworkers was different. Though it was its own shade of mortifying and was something Iris wouldn't want to face ever again, there was some comfort in knowing they were temporary and were all the way across the country, only knowing about the New York version of herself.

In Emelle Bay, all her dirty secrets and dirty laundry were on display for the whole town to see, and there was nowhere for her to hide. The frozen food aisle wouldn't judge her, but other people would, and things could either go one out of two ways—either they'd roll their eyes at her sobbing and talking to herself because she simply couldn't get over Lyra's passing (albeit tragic, people had to stop grieving eventually) or they'd try to strike up a conversation with her like it would make her feel any better.

If anything, it would make them feel good about themselves for reaching out to a person in distress, especially Iris Fox herself. Slippery, sneaky Iris Fox, who no one had ever managed to track down or force to stay in Oregon—no one but Lyra Sinclair, omnipotent even in death.

Hadn't Iris wished so goddamn hard, from the deepest trenches of her heart, for a way to fix everything? Hadn't she gotten a taste of everything she could do to make that wish come to fruition? Why was she still allowing Lyra's memory to rule her life when she could potentially repair the damage and destruction left behind?

"Iris Fox? Is that really you?"

She stirred, risking a glance over her shoulder, and the entire grocery store appeared to swirl into a vortex. The walls thumped like they had heartbeats, and it was like staring at a ghost—for a moment.

"Mrs Sinclair," Iris breathed out. A butterfly with charred wings brushed right past her, but Iris didn't even notice it, for her eyes were glued to the woman standing across the aisle from her. Tall and blonde like a supermodel, she looked like she hadn't aged a day since Lyra's death—the opposite of what one would assume to see in someone whose child had passed away so unexpectedly.

Everyone mourned differently. Not everyone would be eternally trapped in their heartbreak, put their entire life on hold, and be forced to move back across the country just to be closer to the memory of a dead girl. Not everyone would magically develop time traveling powers on the off-chance they could save said girl from herself.

For all Iris knew, Coraline Sinclair simply wasn't externalizing her grief, and Iris vividly remembered the wailing that had come out of the woman's mouth during the funeral.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Coraline stated.

Iris' stomach churned. "Something like that."

Coraline threw her a stiff nod. "Come along, then. I'm sure we have plenty to say to each other."

ଓ༉‧.⭒ֶָ֢⋆.

this is a fun book that doesn't make me sad at all!! (please PLEASE let me know what you think of it so far. i know things are a bit slow right now but they're about to pick up in pace hehehehehe)

wc:  1617 (docs) // 1592 (wattpad)

total wc: 5135 (docs) // 5051 (wattpad)